


they were ten

by writer_bird



Category: snonk
Genre: Angst, Felix is a bean, Memory Loss, Moran West's A+ Parenting, Ola West's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_bird/pseuds/writer_bird
Summary: felix was six when moran and ola west came into their life. they were ten when their life was changed forever.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	they were ten

felix was six

they’d only been with the wests for a few weeks. since the accident. they’d been kind. they’d been warm. they’d comforted the children, felix and jackie, because of course they needed comforting, they were  _ six and four and their parents had just died _ .

but it didn’t last.

felix didn’t understand it. one morning it was pie and flower picking and moran and ola smiling, and then it was moran and ola telling them that they were going to be part of their act.

“act?” felix asked.

performing, moran told them, like their parents had done. the wests were renowned, and now they would be adding felix and jackie into their act.

it’s only fair, ola said. it’s the least you can do. we’ve taken you in so warmly, given you so much, when we didn’t have to.

we didn’t have to.

_ they were six. _

so they started testing. the kids’ powers hadn’t blossomed yet, or so they thought, but they would, moran and ola said, they would, with a little pushing.

a little pushing.

three weeks of a little pushing later, jackie threw her first pillow across the room with her mind.

felix did nothing.

another week of a little pushing, and jackie exploded a glass.

felix did nothing.

another week of a little pushing, and moran and ola said they could definitively classify jackie’s powers as telekinesis.

“what about me?” felix asked.

the words were accompanied with a blow. for  _ impertinence _ . “you’re nothing.”

the next day, jackie started training in the practice room. felix was left to do the chores. “until you prove you can do something worthwhile.”

they stared at the glasses in the cupboards until tears formed in their eyes. they threw a pillow across the room.

they cried.

and then they sat up and did the chores.

they were six.

  
  


felix was seven

they were sitting outside sorting the berries they’d picked from the bushes for dinner that night when they heard jackie’s cry of pain. tension shot through their small body. they could just picture what was happening. jackie was learning to dodge that day. for self defense, and for the new acrobat routine moran and ola had cooked up. yesterday morning when jackie had come into the room limping, moran had said that she wasn’t fast enough at dodging yet.

was that what was happening today? was she not dodging fast enough?

most definitely.

felix scrambled up. the basket of berries forgotten behind them, they darted into the house, through the kitchen, through the hallway, into the practice room.

jackie was kneeling, holding her side, crying. she was five.

“stop crying,” moran said.

“get up,” moran said.

“keep going,” moran said.

felix hovered on the threshold. they wanted to go in. they wanted to intervene. they had to. but it always hurt.

jackie didn’t stop crying.

she didn’t get up.

she didn’t keep going.

for a second felix thought that moran would relent. that he would let up. that jackie could be done training, and she and felix could run outside in the sunshine, laughing and stuffing their faces with berries like they did before the accident, before moran and ola took them in.

but moran didn’t. and they didn’t.

instead, ola stepped forward. “you want to stop crying,” she said. felix closed their eyes. they hated this. they hated this. stop. stop. stop.

they saw the sadness and fear and anger on jackie’s face recede, replaced by determination. she climbed to her feet. she nodded.

_ no _ .

felix didn’t realize they’d said it out loud until ola and moran and jackie all turned to look at them.

“yes?” moran asked.

“stop,” felix said. “she doesn’t want to keep going.”

ola smiled, a sweet smile, a horrible smile. “yes she does. look at her.”

felix didn’t want to. but they did.

jackie was smiling. she looked confident. eager.

“no,” felix whispered. this wasn’t their sister. this wasn’t her. this was  _ ola _ . they clenched their fists and glared at ola. “NO.”

ola just smiled at them and for the first time

she turned her powers

on them

“you’re scared,” she whispered.

“i’m  _ not _ ,” felix said, because they weren’t. they weren’t scared, they were angry.

“you’re afraid,” she whispered.

“i’m  _ not _ ,” felix said, because they were only a little scared, and they mostly just wanted their sister back.

“you’re scared,” she whispered.

“i’m not,” felix said, and they were. they were shaking. why were they shaking?

“leave,” moran snapped.

and felix fled.

they were seven.

felix was eight.

they had figured out the key. the secret. they figured it out when jackie broke a vase. ola loomed. hands on hips. felix knew that she could sense jackie’s guilt. they knew it like they knew that the sun rose that morning and stained the clouds red.

but the secret was that it didn’t matter. it didn’t matter if ola knew the truth of who had broken the vase. she hated felix more. all felix had to do was use that. and jackie would be fine.

“i broke the vase,” felix said, stubbornly, arms folded. they knew she didn’t believe them.

it didn’t matter.

“is that so?” eyebrows raised. felix mimicked the gesture.

“that  _ is  _ so.”

ola looked at jackie. “is this true?”

jackie was six. she opened her mouth. looked from ola to felix. she didn’t know what to say. that was okay. felix would say everything for her.

“it IS so,” felix said. they faked a pout. it wasn’t hard. “i hated that vase. i’m glad it’s broken. it was fat and ugly and stupid and dumb!”

they saw the moment it changed in ola’s mind. she was no longer focusing on jackie’s guilt. hell, she might not even remember it. she glared at felix.

“that vase was my mother’s.” she looked back at jackie again and felix realized that she hadn’t forgotten about their sister enough yet.

“well your mom was fat and ugly and stupid and dumb too,” felix said.

ola didn’t slap them, like moran.

she didn’t use fire, like moran.

she just looked at felix.

and fear crowded into their mind

they were eight.

  
  


felix was nine

they had less and less opportunities to protect jackie now that they were being made to take an apprenticeship in town to support the family while jackie trained to be the “next best west.”

they hated it. the work was long and hard but they didn’t care. what they hated was that they knew, they  _ knew  _ that jackie was hurting, and they weren’t there any more to protect her.

when they got home from their apprenticeship they did whatever they could. anything to take the attention off of her.

she was seven.

felix got good at insults. no longer were they eight years old, spitting out eight year old words like “dumb” and “fat” and “ugly.”

they watched. they listened. they saw what drove moran and ola up the walls. they used it. they pointed out flaws in moran’s logic. they needled ola when she was frustrated.

they were nine

they were never supposed to interrupt jackie’s training. bad things happened when they did. but there was no question to it. they did, every time. as much as possible.

bad things happened when they did, but bad things happened when they  _ didn’t _ , too.

it was just a question of which bad things felix preferred. bad things happening to jackie, or to themself.

themself.

any day.

they were nine.

  
  


felix was ten

it had been a long day, sweeping the streets and then scrubbing them. their hands and knees and knuckles were raw. the door creaked open into the kitchen and felix deposited the groceries on the table, the groceries they’d picked up on the way home because moran and ola had no time for shopping any more, not now that jackie was so close to become the next best west.

jackie was sitting at the kitchen counter, drawing. she was eight.

“hey, jack.” felix hopped up on the stool next to her. “whatcha drawing?”

jackie turned confused eyes on them. “who are you?”

it took

a full minute

to set in

_ they were ten. _

felix laughed. “haha, nice one.”

there was no recognition in her eyes. felix began to feel fear. a feeling they were quite used to, but this was a different fear. this started deep in their gut, curdling and turning and  _ wrong _ .

dread.

“why are you in our house?” jackie’s voice rose in a panic. “mom? DAD!”

felix’s breaths came in fast gulps. no. no. no.

moran appeared in the doorway. “ah.”

felix spun to him, rage burning in their eyes. they were ten. “what did you  _ do to her _ ?”

moran held up an empty vial and dangled it before felix. “she doesn’t remember you.”

“no.” it came in a whisper, because that was all felix could muster.

they were ten.

“you were holding her back,” moran said. “well not any more.”

“no.”

“leave,” moran said. “or we’ll make you.”

felix stood their ground. they would never leave her. never. she was their  _ sister _ . she was  _ jackie _ . she was  _ only eight _ .

“fine,” moran said. a lazy smile.

ola appeared at his shoulder. she looked at felix. she smiled.

fear.

when the cloud of fear receded from felix’s mind, when the fog was finally gone, they were standing in the middle of the street, four blocks away. they didn’t know how long it had been.

they ran home. it was empty. the wests were gone.

picked up.

moving on. another day, another town.

just one difference.

no felix.

they stood there in the street and they cried.

_ jackie _ .

they were ten.

  
  



End file.
